The Hijack
by PrettyStranger
Summary: A short fic from Peeta's point of view that takes place in the beginning of Mockingjay during his torture. SPOILERS FOR MOCKINGJAY. Heavily implied Peeta/Katniss


**A/N: There are spoilers for Mockingjay in here so if you have not read Mockingjay, I advise you not to read this. This takes place before Peeta was saved by the rebels during his torture by the capitol. Please enjoy!**

**

* * *

**

I wiggled my fingers a bit. That was the most movement I could coax out of my hands at the moment. My toes ground into the hard, cold concrete and I clenched my teeth together in the frustration that never seem to die. The small television in the corner of my small room flickered. Propaganda from the Capitol, a constant reminder of where I was and sometimes I glimpse of the girl I loved. The sound coming through was audible, but barely. Not loud enough to cover the screams. Not loud enough to cover the pain I heard from the others. The redheaded female Avox, Lavinia, died already. But I could still hear the others they captured. Some only slightly related to Katniss or I. It wasn't fair they had to suffer. It wasn't fair.

Yesterday (or maybe it was this morning, time was losing meaning) they made me watch them torture Darius, the other Avox. I resisted, closing my eyes, turning my head, anything I could do, but they made me watch. My eyes were kept open to the horrors and sights of the pain they inflicted on him. The cutting of his fingers slowly, the blows he took, the brusies and marks covering him, the horrible squeaking sounds he made for he could not speak. After what seemed like a year they stopped, wheeling him out of my room, his unconscious body limp and covered in a deep wine red. A red so deep, it was almost black. A red I used to love painting. I remember painting. I remember freedom.

Sometimes, they came by to ask me questions. Even as they fire off their interrogation that I know by heart, somehow I know they realize I'm as useless as an Avox. Sometimes _he _comes by. President Snow with his perfect white hair and the trademark rose in his front pocket. But he never asked me questions like the others. He studied me, like he was trying to solve a puzzle, but was missing the last piece. I know he's keeping me alive…for her. But he doesn't know her like I do. Katniss will find a way to stay alive. I only wish I could talk to her, could touch her face again, could feel her lips upon mine even if the kiss was for the cameras again. It seemed like only last night I held her surprisingly fragile figure in my arms, rocking her to sleep after one of her nightmares, feeling her warm tears caress my skin.

The door to my prison opened suddenly jarring me from thoughts of Katniss and a peacemaker with a hard set face and a shaved head entered. He came around and I heard my cuffs fall to the floor with a clang and felt the first relief I had in days as my hands were free. But my freedom was short lived when another peacemaker of a similar look came in and grabbed one arm while the first one grabbed the other. I didn't fight, and they probably knew I wouldn't. My strength had sapped out of me long ago, after the millionth beating and as I had come to grasp the truth that I would most likely die here. They carried me through a maze of prison cells. One in while I caught a glimpse of a captive's face through the small barred windows of their doors, their eyes mad with fear and face's white. I heard the screams again.

After a while we came to a room that differed in no way to my own concrete prison except for a large flat-screen television that completely covered the back wall and a man in a lab coat standing by a metal tray covered in needles and things I couldn't recognize besides the fact they were high tech Capitol goods. They sat me in a cold metal chair facing the screen and put my cuffs back on resolutely. Another form of torture, but one I haven't seen or experienced yet.

Without warning the television flashed on and pictures of Katniss appeared. Katniss running through the woods with Rue. Katniss spoon feeding me in the cave we took shelter in our first hunger games. Katniss kissing me. I didn't understand. Why were they showing me this?

Then I felt it. The needle protrude my skin in my upper arm as the doctor inserted a clear liquid into me. The effects were immediate. The walls began to melt and the doctor's face contorted madly in front of me becoming an unrecognizable monster. I writhed uncontrollably, tremors wracking my body. _Tracker jacker venom? _I felt terrified. A fear I could never have imagined before was growing in me and I felt a scream being wretched from my throat.

I watched the images of Katniss transform. Katniss wasn't helping me at all. She was a monster, a mutt. The images changed. Katniss driving a spear deep into Rue. Katniss poisioning my food so I remained sick during the hunger games. Katniss stealing from my house in the Victors Village. Why didn't I see this before? The television bubbled at the edges like a pot overboiling and my vision seemed to shine. The images flashed faster now, my horror increasing slowly. Katniss killing innocent District 12 citizens without hesitation. Katniss becoming the Mockingjay and burning down my home along with everyone's else's. She was terrifying.

"Who's your enemy?"

Who was that? I don't remember anyone coming in. The voice walked around until he was standing in front of me. He glowed around the edges, his body shimmering delightfully. Ah, I remember now. I could see the white rose. It throbbed grotesquely, its thorns shooting out in all directions.

"Who is your enemy Peeta?" President Snow repeated.

I growled, absolutely sure of my answer.

"Katniss Everdeen."


End file.
